Hallelujah
by seditionary
Summary: Final follow-up to "Without Reid." Rossi's evening with Reid; Rossi finds it hard to communicate what he wants; Reid manages to help him, and in doing so, discovers a need within himself. Adult themes, nothing explicit.


**A/N: Well, this is the final installment of the follow-ups to "Without Reid." It is Rossi's evening with Reid, and there is nothing explicit in the story, but references to sex and a naughty word is in there, somewhere. This came out very differently from what I had originally expected it to be, so I really would like to hear what you think. Thanks for reading!**

**Seds**

xxxxxx

Spencer Reid stared into the mirror above his dresser and tightened his tie. He considered the outfit he had chosen-a paisley button-down shirt, a light blue cardigan, khakis, and sneakers. His usual. Rossi hadn't indicated any particular style of dress he'd prefer for him to wear on their date; in fact, he hadn't said anything, following their brief conversation on the BAU plane, other than, "So-maybe we could get together Wednesday night. My place. That work for you?"

"Seven o'clock?"

"Seven, it is. See you then."

He hadn't said whether he wanted to go out, or whether he wanted to stay in. He hadn't mentioned whether he envisioned a simple evening of getting to know each other a little better, or if Reid should plan on spending the night. Reid rather hoped it was the former; he needed to explain some things, specifically about his relationship with Morgan, to make it clear that there were certain things he wouldn't do with another man, but that he was sure that there were things they could do together that would be mutually pleasurable, and satisfying to them both.

He pushed up the sleeves of his sweater, then loaded his pockets with his wallet and keys. He dropped in a couple of condoms and a small tube of lube as well, although he doubted he'd need them tonight. He had a hard time envisioning Rossi wanting to be on the receiving end of sex, and he would decline to be the receiver himself, but one never knew, and it was better to be safe than sorry.

xxxxxx

David Rossi stared into the mirror above his dresser and tightened his tie. He couldn't help feeling a little nervous; he'd never done anything like this before. He told himself over and over, "This is Reid. _Reid! _The kid, the geek with too many brains and not enough social skills. What's to feel nervous about?"

But, he did feel nervous. Nervous about what he would say, and how he would say it. About what Reid would say. Would he think he was a creep? A pervert? Probably not-from what he'd gleaned so far, Reid was someone who didn't recoil from the depths of human need; he was, in fact, someone who actually seemed to thrive on it. He'd probably find his request pretty tame, on the surface, at least.

Rossi knew one thing, and that was that he, himself, was a confirmed heterosexual with no real kinks-well, maybe he had a thing for nurses in mini-skirts, and there was that recurring fantasy about JJ dressed up in a French maid's uniform, but...

He'd have to make it clear immediately-Reid did not appeal to him sexually. He didn't want to kiss him, and he sure didn't want to fuck him. There was just something about him... his eyes... Those kind, liquid brown eyes... When he looked into those eyes, he saw-

The doorbell rang. Rossi smoothed his hair and gave his tie one last adjustment, then he strode to the front door to greet his guest.

xxxxx

"Hello, Spencer. Please, come in."

"Hi, Dave. Wow, so this is your house. It's beautiful." Reid stepped in and looked around, admiring the marble floor, the spare modern furniture, the icy white walls. It would have been an almost sterile atmosphere but for a number of lush plants and several bookshelves filled with books and knickknacks that warmed up the place. Reid was immediately drawn to the books, and began skimming titles. Rossi watched him for a moment, then shook his head.

"Don't profile me, Reid."

The boy looked up in surprise. "I wasn't-I just-I always look at people's books, I love books, and-"

"My apologies. I guess I'm just a bit-uncertain about this evening."

"That's ok." Reid shrugged. "I'm feeling a little uncertain, myself. I think that's normal, we're just starting to-"

"May I get you a drink?" Rossi strode over to his wet bar. "I'm about to have a cocktail. What would you like? Beer, wine? Soda?"

"What are you having?"

"Scotch."

"Uh... Glass of wine for me, then."

Rossi prepared their drinks, then brought them over to the couch. Reid followed and took a seat, accepting the wine with a nod of thanks. He took a sip and watched as Rossi picked up a remote and aimed it at his stereo system. Frank Sinatra's warm voice filled the room, and Rossi smiled.

"You like Ol' Blue Eyes?"

"Uh-well, my dad was fond of him. I have some memories of him belting out 'New York, New York,' as he drove me to school. That's about the extent of it..."

Rossi chuckled. "Well, you're just a kid. You should give him a listen, though. Sinatra knew his way around a song like nobody else, ever."

Reid nodded, and sucked in his lower lip. He cast a tentative glance at Rossi. "So-what are we doing tonight, Dave?"

Rossi looked back at him, one eyebrow raised. "You sound a little nervous."

Reid laughed. "No, I'm not nervous. I like you, Dave. In fact, I admire you. It's an honor and a privilege to know you're interested in spending some personal time with me. Frankly, I've never felt that I'd earned your respect at work-"

"That's not true. That's absolutely not true. Are you here because you think you have to prove something to me?"

"Oh, now who's profiling whom?" Reid's eyes crinkled cheerfully. "No, I just... I just want to make sure I understand what it is you're hoping to get out of our time together. Because, right now-I don't have any idea."

Rossi stared at the honey-colored liquid in his glass and swirled the ice cubes. "I can't say I know, myself, exactly." He wanted to say more, wanted to pour things out, to show himself-inside himself-to Reid, but he couldn't. He just couldn't.

Reid nodded. "Sometimes, it's hard to put our deepest desires into words. Sometimes, it feels-dangerous. But, you're safe with me, Dave. There's nothing you can say that will make me think less of you. I want you to know that."

Rossi sighed. The kid was being kind, he had a good heart, Rossi knew that. Still... "Listen, son-maybe this was a mistake. I don't think you're going to want to become involved in what I have in mind, and I don't want to waste your time. Perhaps you should just... go home. Now, before things become awkward between us."

"Dave, no. I came here because I sensed that there's something you want, something you long for-a need that I can fulfill. I want to do that, I want to be that person for you. So, please-tell me what you want."

Rossi started to speak, then drew in a deep breath. He couldn't. Putting it into words would be too painful, too raw. He couldn't expose himself like that, not to this-this kid. "I'm sorry, I can't do this. Please, just leave-salvage what's left of your evening. Maybe, sometime, I can take you to dinner and try to explain, but... tonight, I'm not ready. I'm just-not ready." He set his drink on the coffee table and rose to his feet, prepared to show Reid to the door. Reid just settled back into the couch and stared up at Rossi.

"Please sit down."

Rossi stared back a moment, then gave in and complied. Reid smiled gently. "May I ask you some questions?"

Damn, the kid was persistent. Oh, well-what the hell. They'd gotten this far...

"Uh-sure. Why not." He swiveled to face his guest.

"Ok. Are you-attracted to me? Sexually?"

"No," Rossi said flatly.

"I really didn't think you were. Although, a lot of men who find me attractive never even considered having a homosexual encounter before. Perhaps there's something going on that you've repressed?"

Rossi shot him a dour look. "I don't think so."

Reid paused, then said, "May I touch you?"

Rossi sighed. He knew it would come down to this, and he knew he might as well give it a chance. Maybe this was a part of what he wanted, needed, all this time, after all.

"Yeah, all right. Go ahead."

"Take off your jacket." Reid set his wine on the coffee table and shifted closer to Rossi, indicating he should turn his back to him. He smelled his cologne, and closed his eyes for a moment. He put his hands on his shoulders and began massaging the tense muscles he found there. Rossi made a moan and tilted his head back. Reid moved lower. The sensation was powerfully soothing and pleasurable, but...

"You know, Reid, I get a massage once a week at my health club from a lovely woman named Mildred. What you're doing is marvelous, but... my enjoyment of massage has never been repressed, not in the least."

Reid chuckled. "Ok. So, maybe you're looking for something more intimate." He buried his face in the older man's neck and gave him soft kisses while running his hands down his chest. Rossi stiffened and pulled away.

"Ok, I have to say-that isn't doing anything for me."

"Really?"

"Really, kid. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but honest-to-God, I do _not _want to kiss you."

"You're not hurting my feelings at all, you're just mystifying me. I'm sorry, I'm kind of at a loss. Maybe I should just, you know-lay the cards on the table. I apologize in advance if my questions offend you, but I feel it's necessary for me to ask them. Now-do you want to have sex with me?"

"No."

"Do you want me to have sex with you?"

"God, no."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, yeah. Very."

"Would you like for me to give you oral sex? Or-"

"No!"

Reid pursed his lips. "You want to tie me up? Or, for me to tie you up?"

"Reid, I think this was a bad idea-"

"No, no, we're going to figure this out. How about dressing up? Something you've always wanted to do but haven't had the guts? Women's clothing, leather, latex, rubber wear-"

"No!"

"Animal costumes? Pony play? Furries?"

"What? Jeeze, kid, I don't even know what you're talking about-"

"How about humiliation? Infantilism?"

"Ok, I think you need to go, now..."

"No, give me a minute. Spanking? Breath play? Electric play? Voyeurism? Hey, do you want me to invite Morgan over? Uh-"

Rossi took one of Reid's hands in his. "Listen to me, Spencer. I know you think there's some deep-seated perversion rattling around in my soul that I'm not willing to confront, but-there's not. I know exactly what I want, it's not repressed at all. It's just that, the more I think about it, the more I realize-it's simply not possible. You've done me a great service this evening, you've helped me to see that, to accept that. I thank you, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry to be so oblique, but trust me-I feel a lot better.

"Now, I think it would be best if you just went home and we didn't talk about this anymore."

Reid frowned and shook his head. "You invited me here for a reason. You thought I could help you with something. Please-tell me what it is."

Rossi sighed tiredly. "It's a long story. You're too young, kid. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Rossi dropped his hand and leaned back, tilting his head up toward the ceiling. He'd done the therapy routine, he knew the drill. You just have to start, you just have to start somewhere...

He began to speak.

"All right. I have... insomnia. For years, now. Sometimes, when it gets too bad, I knock myself out with prescription drugs. But, I hate that. It's not real sleep, somehow. Plus, I'm just so groggy when I wake up. So, most of the time, I... toss and turn for a couple of hours. Then, I get up and watch television-real soothing, you know? Ha ha. Then, I go back and lie down and doze off for a while, but then, something'll disturb me and I jerk awake, and can't get back to sleep.

"When I was a kid, I never wanted to sleep-it felt like I never needed to. So much energy. I was one of those kids who was into everything, all over the place, a thousand ideas in my head at once. My mother used to say, _'Sarete la morte di me.' '_You'll be the death of me,' that means."

"I know," Reid said gently. "I speak Italian."

Rossi looked at him. "I know you do." He looked back at the ceiling. "Anyway, back then, Mama had her hands full. A house full of kids, a demanding husband, the neighbors coming to her for help at all hours of the day-she helped everyone. Everyone in our building, everyone in our neighborhood. She was the kindest, gentlest, most unselfish person I've ever met."

"She sounds like a wonderful mom."

"She was! She gave me love, even when I didn't deserve it, even when I was a complete brat. She would look at me with those beautiful eyes-big, dark brown eyes, you could see her soul in her eyes-and she'd say, '_Ci è niente che possiate fare per rendermi non l'amore voi, in modo da smetta di provare così duro.'"_

Reid grinned. "'There's nothing you can do to make me stop loving you-'"

"'...so, stop trying so hard,' yeah. She was a funny lady, as well. I used to wish I were an only child, that I could have Mama all to myself for a change. But, every night-she would take a book from the shelf and sit by my bed and read it to me. For those few minutes, every night-she was mine, alone. I would listen to her voice, her sweet voice, reading the words in Italian, and my mind would go into the story, and before I knew it, I was asleep." He took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. "She died when I was thirteen. I haven't had a good night's sleep since."

Reid's brows were knit together. He glanced toward the bookcase, then back at Rossi.

"Dave-go get ready for bed. I'll meet you in your bedroom."

Rossi stared at the boy. "Reid, no. It won't work. You're very kind, but-"

Reid put a hand on Rossi's shoulder. "Give it a chance. I have a very good Italian accent. _Per favore_. Please."

Rossi shrugged and sat up straight. "Well... okay. But, I don't want you to tell Garcia."

"I won't. But, she'll just come up with something far more bizarre, you know."

"That's fine. I'd prefer it."

Reid smiled, and Rossi rose to his feet. He stopped at the bookcase, and tapped one of the books. "This was... a particular favorite. And-my bedroom's the second door on the right." With that he turned and headed down the hallway.

Reid stood up and went to the bookcase. He pulled the book, "_Fiabe Popolari Italiane,_" from the shelf and thumbed through it. It was well-worn, and he found pressed flowers interspersed throughout the book. He thought of his own mother, of how much she loved to read, and how he had loved having her read to him.

"'Popular Italian Fables,' huh?" he said to himself. "Someone loved this book very much." He closed it, tucked it under his arm, and headed to Rossi's bedroom.

He could do this.

xxxxx

The next morning, Reid found Rossi in the break room. He came up beside him and began pouring himself a cup of coffee. No one else was around.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked softly.

"Like a newborn baby. I think I love you, Dr. Reid."

Reid smiled. "Thanks. I enjoyed it. I'd never heard some of those tales before."

"My mother's mother gave her that book when she was a little girl. It was one of the few things she brought with her from the old country."

"The flowers-"

"Some, she picked when she was a kid. Some, my father gave her. Some-I gave her."

Reid nodded. "Well-anytime, Dave."

"Thanks, Spencer. Forever in your debt."

"It was my pleasure."

Rossi clamped a hand on the boy's thin shoulder and squeezed affectionately. He smiled, raised his coffee cup, and headed off to his office.

Reid stood quietly for a long moment.

He'd give his mom a call when he got home, see how she was doing, how she was feeling. Letters were nice, but he wanted to hear her voice.

And, he wondered what Morgan was doing tonight.

He turned to go find his lover. He wondered if, some night-after they'd made love, after the heat between them had once again been sated, and he was lying comfortably in the bigger man's arms-he wondered if he might be able to find the courage... to ask Morgan to read him a bedtime story.


End file.
